


The Rhinoceros

by tinzelda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Black Panther after-credits scene, First Kiss, M/M, Steve Rogers can actually dance, metaphorically speaking, yes first kiss after all this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinzelda/pseuds/tinzelda
Summary: Bucky’s gaze was fixed on Steve. He could feel it, though he couldn’t get up the courage to look Bucky right in the eye just yet. Because he was right. This had always been between them, as long as Steve could remember, and nothing—not girls, not a war, not a lost lifetime for each of them—had done anything to weaken it.Why was Steve brave about everything but this?





	The Rhinoceros

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the Black Panther after-credits scene (which I found very inspiring), but no spoilers for the main plot of the movie. 
> 
> Thanks a million to [poppyfields13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyfields13/pseuds/poppyfields13) for a beta read. Midflight, no less, while on vacation. You’re the best!

Steve opened his eyes to find three pairs of eyes staring down at him. He blinked in confusion. The kids had ovals of chalky yellow and white pigment smeared over their eyes and noses, giving them the look of bright-eyed, round-faced owls.

“Hi,” Steve said, and the kids turned and ran for the door.

He probably should have felt embarrassed that they’d seen him crammed into bed next to Bucky, but they’d only been curious.

Bucky stirred next to him, his arm tightening around Steve’s waist. Steve went still, hoping Bucky would fall back to sleep. It would be such a luxury to just lie here, his legs tangled with Bucky’s in the narrow bed. Letting the world stay outside and their focus narrow to just this simple, round space.

Wishing things could be how he wanted with Bucky but grateful to have this peaceful moment.

Steve had arrived late the night before—too late to speak to T’Challa. They’d offered to set him up in a suite in the palace compound, but when he’d heard that Bucky was out of cryofreeze, all he’d cared about was seeing him as soon as possible.

A tall thin man wearing a marigold-yellow robe had driven Steve away from the city in a sleek sedan, parked on a small dirt road, and led him around a lake to a cluster of thatched huts. The man hadn’t spoken. He’d gestured at one of the huts and bowed, then retreated the way they’d come.

After gently thumping his fist on the wall and getting no answer, Steve had pushed aside the patterned fabric hanging in the doorway and stepped into the room. It had taken a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he could make out the darker rectangle of the pallet on the floor.

“Bucky?”

Steve had crossed the room, crouched down, and stretched one arm out slowly, not wanting to startle Bucky out of a sound sleep. A gentle shake to Bucky’s shoulder had awakened him.

“Buck, it’s me. I came as soon as I heard you were awake. But what are you doing way out here?”

“ _Steve_.” Bucky’s voice had been thick with sleep, so the strength of his grip had been surprising when he’d reached out and tugged at Steve’s collar, pulling him down onto the bed.

“Wait,” Steve had protested. “My boots.”

Bucky had let go of him just long enough for him to loosen his laces and toe off the boots, then dragged him down, nudging him onto his side and curling up close behind him.

In the light of morning, Steve’s face felt warm, remembering how he’d savored the feeling of Bucky’s body pressed up close behind him. So many times he’d snuck into Bucky’s bed on chilly nights. Those nights seemed a long way off, but nothing had really changed. Steve still wanted Bucky, and it was still impossible.

This time, Bucky had tugged him down without even asking. But he’d only wanted the comfort and warmth of Steve close by. It could never mean anything more than that.

Bucky groaned a little, his face pressed against Steve’s shoulder, and asked, “Did you sleep at all?”

“I slept fine,” Steve said.

He wanted to get a good look at Bucky, so he shifted around, squirming in place until they were both lying on their sides, face to face.

“Sorry the bed’s so small,” Bucky said, then yawned.

“Bigger than the one we used to share on cold nights,” Steve pointed out.

“I guess it is a little bigger,” Bucky said. “But so are you, pal. I’m used to that. It’s _this_ I can’t get used to.” Bucky touched Steve’s chin and scratched his fingertips through Steve’s beard.

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that. Just gotta get used to it.”

The movement of Bucky’s fingers slowed and stopped, and he let his hand fall and settle in the space between them.

They were so close, their faces inches apart. Steve knew he should look away. He should roll over and pull himself out of bed—what was a luxury while Bucky slept was dangerous now that he was wide awake—but didn’t want to move. Bucky was a little quiet, maybe, but smiling. He was himself again.

Bucky’s smile faded, and he lifted his hand. He reached out—it made Steve’s heart pound—but before he made contact, Steve turned away and jumped out of bed.

“I’m starving,” Steve said. “You got anything to eat around here?”

There was a long pause before Bucky finally answered. “Breakfast should be ready soon. We eat outside.”

Bucky pushed off the light blanket and stood. He wore a robe like the man who had brought Steve to the hut the night before: toga-like, striped in two dark shades of blue. With quick, nimble fingers, he combed through his hair and pulled it away from his face, tying it with a leather cord. He went outside without another word.

Steve’s clothing felt snug in all the wrong places. It had twisted around his limbs while he slept. He pulled his shirt out of his waistband and tried straightening it out, but no amount of adjusting made it feel right again. He took it off and left it draped across the foot of Bucky’s bed. His white undershirt would be fine. Bucky’d gone out barefoot, so Steve tugged off his socks and headed out after one last tug at the fly of his jeans.

He squinted in the bright sun. The three kids who had stared at Steve as he woke up were standing near the door, whispering to one another. One of the boys lifted his hand to his mouth and kissed it repeatedly with loud smacking sounds. Steve’s face went flaming hot.

He snuck a peek at Bucky, who was grinning. Steve couldn’t really mind being embarrassed when Bucky was smiling like that.

The kids scattered, giggling, and in their wake, Steve noticed a pretty young woman standing on the grassy shore. Her braided hair was pinned up in a complicated style, and the knowing spark in her eye made Steve blush all over again.

“Good morning, Captain Rogers.”

“C’mon, we gotta do this again?” Bucky said. “No more _sergeant_ and no more _captain_. I’m Bucky and he’s Steve.”

“Of course.”

“This is Shuri,” Bucky said with a jerk of his head in her direction. “I guess she’s a princess, though she doesn’t really act like it. She’s T’Challa’s little sister, and I gotta say, she _does_ act like a little sister.”

“And you act like the cat who ate the canary,” Shuri said. “Having your friend here is very good for your morale.”

Bucky’s grin grew wider.

Steve offered Shuri his hand to shake, pretending not to notice the mischief still twinkling in her eyes. She was too perceptive for his comfort.

An older woman saved Steve by bringing breakfast: some kind of porridge in wooden bowls. Bucky thanked her, plopped down on a low wooden stool, and dug right in, while Shuri waited patiently by the lakeside. After Steve left her to join Bucky, the children returned, flocking around her with questions and teasing.

“I thought you were starving.” Bucky said through his mouthful.

Steve couldn’t seem to get enough of seeing Bucky like this. Smiling. His every movement proving he was at ease with himself, finally. Steve ducked his head and spooned up a bit of porridge.

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“How come you’re out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“It’s not the middle of nowhere,” Bucky said as he scraped up the last bite of his breakfast. “It’s less than a mile from a train station. We can walk there any time we want and be downtown in less than minutes.”

“Okay.” Steve shoved another spoonful into his mouth. “But why here? Why not in the city? It’s beautiful there.”

“It’s beautiful _here_. And it’s easier here. Easier to think,” Bucky said. “There’s no noise. No distractions.”

He sounded thoughtful, not defensive, and Steve realized he didn’t have any right to ask questions. He took another bite of his porridge.

Bucky surprised him by continuing. He’d been so quiet the last time Steve saw him, though he used to be quite the motormouth. It made Steve smile.

“But I like the city too. It _is_ beautiful. And advanced. So advanced.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Steve said. “I can’t believe some of the stuff they do with vibranium.”

“I didn’t mean just technologically. Socially too. I feel like I don’t have to hide here. _We_ don’t have to hide here.”

Steve stared down into his bowl. Was Bucky saying what Steve thought he was saying?

“It’s become a habit. A reflex. Hiding, I mean. Even from each other. But I’m done hiding.” Bucky rose from his stool and carefully balanced his bowl on top of it. He waited until Steve looked up at him. “Think about it. Okay?”

Still struck dumb, Steve nodded. Bucky walked across the grass to join Shuri at the lakeside, and they walked away into the trees.

Steve stared at the water. He tried to think about what Bucky’d said, but each time, his mind shied away before he got to the meat of it. He must have lost hours, just sitting there, before Bucky returned and settled once again on the little stool next to Steve’s.

Bucky waited a long while, just sitting patiently until the branches of the nearby bushes shuddered, and peals of laughter rang out from within the leaves. With a smirk, Bucky said some a few words—Steve assumed they were in Wakandan—and the kids laughed again.

Bucky leaned over to a small stack of firewood nearby and grabbed several pieces of kindling to build a teepee shape in the ring of stones in front of them.

“I think there’s leftover stew for lunch,” Bucky said. “You’ll like it. It was really spicy.”

Steve nodded but didn’t answer. Everything felt awkward, and he didn’t like it.

Bucky lit the fire and, once it caught, sat back and watched the flame creep up the narrow sticks. He seemed lost in thought. To bring him back, Steve said, “It sure is nice here.”

Bucky turned to look at Steve, grinned, and reached out to run one finger along Steve’s jawline. “This beard is a surprise, every time I look at you.” His hand and his gaze both lingered on Steve’s face. “We gotta talk about this, Steve.”

“Talk about what?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “The elephant in the room.”

“Elephant?” Steve shook his head. “I haven’t seen any elephants. I saw some rhinos when I was flying in, and I think—”

“Fine,” Bucky said, cutting him off. “It can be a rhinoceros if you want. A big, queer rhinoceros sitting in the middle of the room.”

Steve realized his mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. He stared at the fire just to have somewhere to look that wasn’t right at Bucky.

“C’mon, Steve.”

Steve remained stubbornly silent.

Bucky sighed. “You always say you can’t dance, but you’ve been dancing around this rhinoceros of ours for about eighty years, so enough with the bullshit already.”

Bucky’s gaze was fixed on Steve. He could feel it, even though he couldn’t get up the courage to look Bucky right in the eye just yet. Because he was right. This had always been between them, as long as Steve could remember, and nothing—not girls, not a war, not a lost lifetime for each of them—had done anything to weaken it.

Why was Steve brave about everything but this?

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Steve, c’mon. Look at me.”

Slowly Steve lifted his chin.

Bucky reached out again, determined, and cradled Steve’s jaw in his hand. “No more dancing, huh?” he said softly. “Just . . . be with me.”

He kissed Steve then—a sweet, gentle press of lips. Questioning, not demanding. And Steve gave himself up to it, closing his eyes and trying to broadcast all the longing he’d forced down over decades of waiting.

When they parted for breath, Bucky said Steve’s name, but before he could continue, there was a string of loud smooching sounds from the bushes, followed by high-pitched giggles.

Steve knew he was blushing, but he didn’t mind at all.

“What do you say we go into town for the evening?” Bucky said. “We can get cleaned up, maybe grab some dinner at a real restaurant.”

Steve paused before answering. “But I thought it was easier here. No distractions.”

“Yeah, but there’s also no _door_ , Steve. And the things I want to do to you? We’re gonna need some privacy.”

The End


End file.
